Some days I have just had….Enough.
Enough of dealing with these diseases. Enough of the constant worry. Enough of the physical and emotional exhaustion. Enough of feeling overwhelmed.
Enough of COVID. Enough of isolation. Enough of unrest and uneasiness. Enough of the arguing and the noise.
Add in my other son’s newly diagnosed complex migraines, where he loses cognitive awareness. Enough.
Add in a loved one’s diagnosis of cancer. Enough.
Add in the normal stressors of having a son in his senior year of high school. Enough.
I know I should try to be grateful and look for the good, but it’s a struggle. I know I’m too overwhelmed to run through worst-case scenarios for any benefit. And I’m tired. Too tired. I try to buoy myself, but it’s hard. I’m trying to smile for him, for them. Trying to stay positive for everyone else.
My head is spinning, my heart is racing. I’m feeling twirly. Unsettled and unnerved.
I am not ok.
You can’t pour from an empty cup…especially if the cup is cracked.
I know it’s ok, to not be ok.
Your Faith is bigger than your Fear.
Ok, Fear. Come on in and sit down. Get comfortable.
Keep your fire of hope burning. LIVE this life, for him and for all of you.
He’s going back. 1,188 miles back to Chicago. Back to try to have some bit of normalcy in these uncertain times.
Breathe. Deep slow breaths. One hand on your heart, one hand on your belly.
He’s packing his medications, his medical supplies, his emergency syringes. He is checking and double checking. Masks and hand sanitizers are packed. He sees me watching him and he gives me a smile.
His cautiousness is just enough.
He’s excited to live in a dorm again, although by himself. We talk about what he needs for the small kitchen in his room. We sign up for Instacart grocery delivery and he asks me again how to make Pasta Carbonara and that chicken chili he likes.
His excited and nervous energy is just enough.
He’s updated a new app for his insulin pump. This new pump is a medical marvel, making adjustments for him while he sleeps. He rarely wakes in the middle of the night anymore. It has helped him get more rest and more confidence.
The security it gives us is just enough.
He’s willing to try. He opens up about potential challenges and runs through his own worst case scenarios. And we have an agreement that if it’s too hard, too much for him to manage on his own, he will come home. We will talk regularly and I will keep trying to figure out how to get him a vaccine.
His hopefulness is just enough.
Just enough for me to think he will be ok.
Yes, this is hard but I believe in him.
No, I am not ok, but I know I will be.
I have sat with Fear before. I will not let it consume me.
I will help him. I will support him. I will be honest with him.
And even if my mind starts to swirl, I will take deep breaths and recognize that sometimes
Enough is just enough.